What To Find In The Morning
by ButtersTheSnowPuppy
Summary: Just a little one-shot about my two favorite people. Nothing sexual, sorry XD!


**A/N: BEFORE YOU READ THIS! I know that the title kinda sounds suggestive (or maybe its just my brain) but its not like that at all. This my first fanfic ever written, and i can't believe i did kyman! Don't be to harsh with the critics, even though they are welcomed, because this is my first. I am completely aware that they are both probably WAAAAY OC but whatever. I tried Hope you like it :)**

Waking up to soft hands drawing sleepy circles on your chest is a pretty damn good way to wake up. He was asleep, I looked up at his peaceful face to make sure, but his hands were not. Traveling from the bottom of my neck all the way to the top of where my low riding boxers lay, his hands caressed me in a way so un-Cartman-like it was almost surreal. You'd never guess that someone who did so many evil plans, would have such delicate hands.

The position we were in was one of my favorites. He was on his back, and I was on my side. I was facing him and had my head on his chest, while his head lay on mine. He had both arms wrapped around me, and I had one arm underneath me, and one arm draped lazily on his arm. To me, it was the epitome of love.

I loved it. The way his big hands felt on my tiny torso. His hands weren't fat any more, neither was his whole body. He'd grown to be almost the tallest kid in our class, topped only by kenny. I seam to have gotten the short genes, so the distance between us hight wise was very sizable. He was muscular, but not body builder like, just… toned. I was very… girlish, having almost no sustenance to me. Our differences went passed anything just physical. Everything I am, he's not. Everything he is, I'm not. He humiliated me to no end, and no matter what he always thought himself right. He was arrogant, evil, vindictive, egoistic, boastful, disgusting, anti-Semitic, racist, self-centered, narcissistic and... the list goes on. Basically, he was everything I should hate.

On the outside.

On the inside he was the opposite if his outside self. He cared not about his self, only about me. He tended to my wounds (which were always small, like paper cuts) like they were the end of the world. He showered me with love and affection, with anything and everything I could ever want. All he asked for in return was my trust, loyalty, honesty and love. Wholeheartedly I gave him those things. He wasn't always the caring, living, honest man, but in the 50% chance that he is he is perfect. Hell, for me, he's perfect anyways.

I chuckled, thinking about the day we were at the mall, and some random dude hit on me. He got so angry.

I was just standing there minding my own business, waiting for him to come out of the mens restroom at the mall movie theater, when some guy (a really hot guy) comes up to me and start chatting me up. It was back in my very naive days, and also back when I still didn't trust cartman fully and completely. I didn't realize that he was hitting on me until he ran his hand down my arm, leaning forward on his arm pressed against the wall above my head. I was shocked into a stupor, so all I could do was stare doe eyed at him. This happened simultaneously with Cartman coming out of the bathroom. Not a good sight, for anyone, but even worse for Cartman. Trust issues. He seethed, punched the other guy straight in the jaw, sending him flying backwards and unconscious. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away. He was so angry, and he was cute when he was angry. He gets this underbite thing. I don't know, it works for him.

Feeling my chuckle reverberate on his chest, he raises his head, suddenly awake. And groggy. He picked his head up off of mine and slide his arms off of me as well. I lost the warm feeling instantly.

"Ay! Stupid jew! It's to early to be waking up!" Never the less he started dragging himself out of bed, presumably to makes breakfast. Believe it or not, but Cartman was one hell of a cook. Already in a sitting position and getting even farther away from me by the second, I reach out to him and grab his hand. Pulling it down to me, he lays himself against me again, drowsy eyes not entertained.

"I'm sorry, it's just…" I run the back of my hand down his arm and back up again, "you're really super cute." His mouth forms into a thin line, but his eyes sparkle with my praise. Even if he doesn't mean to show it, every feeling he has is out for display begging me to snatch it. He's a very emotional opened book.

"Take that back! I'm the man, so I'm handsome. Your the chick, so your cute." He pulls him arm away quickly. I know he doesn't want me to stop, but he also know this is going to turn into an argument so he's getting ready for anything.

"No your the girl! You cry all the time!" Its true he does. Even so, we both know I'm just playing. I really am the woman. Smaller, frailer, girlie-er, but I'd never let him know I know that.

"Only when your hurt! And you happen to be hurt a lot, so your the chick!" He's getting angrier by every word said, but since the time a few years ago when he really actually did hurt me, he's been more careful. He sighs deeply and turns on his back, resting his hands under his head. He's being cautious, and my heart swells. I whip my body, and suddenly I'm straddling him. My jew fro got so long that it actually makes a curtain surrounding our faces.

"Aww, honey, your too sweet!" I gush, and peck his lips. He huffs, but secretly he is loving that I called him honey. Its evident in the way he snakes his arms around my waist.

"You wake me up at the ungodly our of seven fifteen for a stupid reason, call me a chick, and the tease me by sitting on me and only kissing me for a millisecond!" He laughs, just to show he is joking and not serious before using the accent he had in elementary and middle school saying, "Kahl, you obviouslah don't respect my authoritah!" He laughs again, and I can't help but giggle. I smack him on the arm playfully.

"Eric! You know how you saying my name like that makes me feel! All those hours of speech therapy and you still can't talk right." When we first started dating in sophomore year of highschool, then secretly of course, he felt he need to show me that he really did love me so he went to speech therapy. I was the sweetest thing ever, I swear.

"Shut up jewrat!," yeah, he still calls me that, "You know you love it." he says suggestively, shrugging his eyebrows.

"Do not!

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do-" I've had enough of this. I cut him off with a kiss. Not a fast paced I-want-you-to-fuck-me-up-the-ass kiss, but a gentile one. A kiss that shows him maybe, just maybe, I might love it. I love everything about him. He responds in such away that makes me sigh. He reaches up to softly catch my face in his hands. I pull my hands away from his cheast, where the had been through the whole ordeal, and push them quietly into his gorgeous silky smooth hair. Maybe a self examination of ones love life is weird to have while said person is kissing their lover, but I do it. I love Eric Cartman. Eric Cartman loves me. I will never get tired of saying that. And even if he calls me a jewrat faggot all the time, its ok. Because I know and he knows, I'm _His_ jewrat faggot.

He seams to be able to read my mind, or something, because he depends the kiss. It gets more passionate and heavy and soon were both panting and moaning. His Hands trail along my chest until they reach my boxers and he starts to push the down and… Well, you know what goes on from here ;)

**A/N (yes, another one!): Just wanted to say that i would really LOVE for you to comment, even if its to flame. At least then I'd know if I have to work on my writing. If you think i have any week spots, please feel free to say so! But also feel free to say it was ! (sp?) Cause, you no, that would be cool too! **


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